


Charles and the Eagle

by Isra



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Falconry, Hunting, M/M, Minor Animal Deaths, Minor Character Death, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isra/pseuds/Isra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairy tale AU in which Charles is a young man who takes care of the king’s hunting hawks. One day the king brings home a giant eagle from a faraway land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charles and the Eagle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chellann_Nicollares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellann_Nicollares/gifts).



> This was written in response to Chellann's prompt of “Flying and Shackles.” 
> 
> I am aware that real falconry doesn’t work like this, in a number of ways. :)

Charles Neal grew up surrounded by birds of prey: owls, hawks, falcons, anything that could be trained to take game and bring it back to its master. He took his first steps in the royal aviary where the birds lived; he imitated their burbles and screeches before he learned to talk. His hair was the iridescent black of a crow’s wing and his eyes the blue of the sky they soared through. As he matured, his jaw grew sharp and his nose strong, and his expressions had the fierce intensity of a raptor on the hunt. He was quiet, though, and kept away from other boys because they teased him for caring too much about birds. 

His mother had died of an illness when he was a baby, leaving him alone with his father. The kind and gentle man was the king’s Master of Falcons, responsible for the health and well-being of His Majesty’s prized flock. As soon as young Charles could be trusted not to get an eye plucked out or a limb mauled, he worked alongside his father and learned all the tricks of the ancient art. It was a messy and difficult job, but he enjoyed it. He fed the birds strips of raw meat and cleaned up their waste, and helped his father train them to hunt for prey and return with it rather than consume it where it lay. 

The king was named Frederick and he was a large man in his middle age, with a flowing white wig and rouge on his cheeks. He treasured the birds because he saw his mastery over them as a symbol of his divine right to rule. He often went on hunting expeditions with high ranking members of his court to show off his best hawks, and brought Charles’s father along to care for the birds on the journey. Given the importance of his role and his closeness with the King, the Master of Falcons (and by extension, his son) were well-regarded in the city, despite their servant status.

The respect came with a price, however, for the king had high standards. Every feather had to be in place, every talon buffed and sharpened. If a bird fell ill or did not look its best, the king would express his displeasure by having his guards whip it into the Master Falconer’s hide. It did not happen often, but there were days in his youth when Charles had to do all of the work while his father lay with salve over the welts on his back.  

Charles was still a young man, not yet finished with the second decade of his life, when his father died on a hunting trip.  The king’s chamberlain came and found Charles in the aviary and told him the news: his father had fallen from a cliff while trying to retrieve a falcon that had refused to come back to the king. Before Charles could even comprehend what the man was telling him, the chamberlain solemnly held out the golden badge worn by the Master of Falcons. The title had been passed on to him. 

From then on, Charles found himself alone in the world. The raptors became like family to him; he ate with them and slept in the aviary on a mattress filled with straw. They watched with their gleaming eyes when he spoke. He soon determined he was more comfortable with them than with other humans, a fact he remembered every time he went to the tavern and tried to join in a game of cards or talk to the beautiful young barmaids. He found that the women did not turn his head like the bards’ songs described; he admired their beauty but did not lust for them. He was always relieved to return to the aviary, where he slept on a bed of straw in the corner and his dreams were filled with the coos of owls.

 

*** 

 

One day the king returned from a long journey to the Far East. He brought back with him many pieces of art and jewelry, wonders of intricate craft the likes of which his people had never seen. His most prized treasure, however, was a magnificent eagle with feathers the color of copper and gold. It was twice as large as the next biggest bird in the aviary; if it were to stand on the ground its head would come up to a man’s chest. Its wingspan was as big as two men laid head to toe and its talons were larger than a lion’s. It wore a white leather hood embroidered with gold and diamond inlay that covered its eyes. 

Around one of its long legs, just above the ankle, was a wide golden shackle with a chain attached. The king himself held onto the other end of the chain when the bird was brought to the royal aviary; he handed it to his steward – a short, simpering man in purple velvet – who handed it to Charles.

“This is the rarest and most wonderful eagle in the word,” the steward told him. “His Majesty will have it be known that any harm to this treasure will be considered treason. Furthermore, the shackle around its leg shall not be removed under any circumstances. To do so is punishable by death.” 

Charles swallowed and nodded. The eagle, on its perch, was carried by two strong guardsmen to a place of honor in the center of the aviary, and end of the chain was affixed to a ring set into the floor. With a curt nod from the king, everyone left Charles alone to deal with the practical matters of getting the animal settled.  

For a long moment he just stared at the thing, feeling awe and terror in equal measure as it sat motionless and blind under its hood. On its perch, their heads were at about the same height. It seemed calm at the moment, but its beak looked sharp enough to slice clean through a man’s arm. He didn’t know if he was more frightened of the bird itself or of the enormous responsibility that had just been placed upon him.

He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his cheeks, then carefully approached the beast. He pitched his voice low and soothing. “Hello, you handsome creature. You must be tired after that long journey.” The eagle turned its head toward his voice and tilted it slightly, as if curious. “Here, let me take off that hood and you can have a look around while I get you something to eat.”

Charles reached out and carefully unfastened the strap holding the hood at the back of the bird’s head. He pulled it gently at first, but when he thought he felt the raptor begin to move, he flinched and yanked it the rest of the way off. The ornate piece of leather fell to the ground and bounced as he took a hasty step back, then froze when his eyes met those of the eagle. 

Rather than the honey-brown color he was used to seeing in large raptors of similar coloring, this animal’s eyes were a deep green with a swirl of gold around the pupils. They seemed to see through his skin, down into the sinew and bone beneath, and Charles suddenly felt very exposed. The unusual eyes regarded him with an expression he could only describe as detached amusement. 

“Well, aren’t you… different?” Link stuttered, trying to regain the upper hand. He reminded himself that birds of prey needed to see confidence in their masters, or obedience could suffer. “I hope you like your new home. You’re the most important bird in the whole kingdom!” 

The eagle looked around at the polished wooden stalls where other birds sat in their cages, most of them quietly observing the visitor. It tilted its head up at the domed ceiling and down to the freshly swept dirt floor, then back to Charles’ eyes. The animal’s shoulders twitched as if to say, “It’s all right, I suppose.”

Charles bent down and picked up the hood, conscious of the bird’s talons near his face. _Please don’t kill me_ , he prayed. When he straightened up, he let out the breath he was holding and forced another confident smile. “I’ll get you some fresh meat. Would you like that?” 

He wasn’t expecting an answer, but he could’ve sworn he saw the bird’s beak dip down. He shook his head as he placed the hood on a nearby shelf and went to get the food. _Perhaps wherever this bird is from_ , he theorized, _they train them to understand words like dogs do_. He selected a large vole from the cage, stunned it with a quick blow to the head, then brought it back to the eagle. He was standing there wondering how best to feed it to the creature when the beast bent down from its perch, stuck out its neck, and plucked it from Charles’ hand before the man could even react. He stared as the bird straightened back up with a flap of its enormous wings and gulped down the animal whole. 

“My goodness, I didn’t realize you could reach that far!” he exclaimed. His palm tingled from where the razor-sharp beak had brushed his skin. The eagle looked at him and seemed to raise a brow, and Charles felt himself blushing. “I apologize. I will try not to underestimate you in the future.” 

He fed the creature four more of the rodents before it finally seemed satisfied, turning away to preen the blood from its feathers. Charles poured fresh water into the trough by its perch before going about the rest of his normal chores. He found himself talking to the new resident as he worked, feeling more sociable than usual. There was something about the bird’s demeanor that made Charles feel like the beast was actually listening to him. Every time the man glanced up from the cage he was cleaning or the bird he was feeding, the new eagle was looking at him. 

When it was time to sleep, he felt the eagle’s eyes on him as he curled up on his mattress stuffed with straw and pulled the wool blanket up to his chin. He thought that he should find it disconcerting, but instead it was a comfort. “Good night, Eagle,” he murmured. He heard a rustle of feathers as he drifted to sleep.

***

 

King Frederick’s newest prize was the talk of the kingdom and he wanted to show it off as much as possible. He delivered addresses from the castle wall and rode his chariot through the streets with the bird perched beside him, and he was always holding the end of the golden chain. All of the courtiers competed for the honor of hunting with the king in order to see this magnificent beast in action. Foreign dignitaries and monarchs from neighboring kingdoms began to visit just to hunt with the king.  

As always, Charles attended these expeditions and cared for the birds that were used. He saw how the king would detach the chain from the shackle around the eagle’s ankle in order to allow hunting, and reattach it as soon as the bird returned. The thick band of metal around the animal’s leg was never removed. At first, the giant eagle seemed pleased to perform for the king, taking rabbits and weasels with a graceful ease. He turned lazy circles high above the awestruck eyes of the crowd before returning to the perch at the king’s side.

The king began seeking larger game to test the eagle’s skill, and would make wagers with the other monarchs on whether the beast would succeed (it always did). But then came one day when the king was hunting with the beautiful queen from the neighboring land, whom many believed he had an eye to marry. Charles and the other men in the royal retinue had been keeping their distance from the couple to allow them privacy, but then the king shouted for his Master Falconer.

Charles approached meekly and gave a deep bow. “Yes, Your Majesty, how may I be of service?”

The king was red-faced. “The eagle is refusing to hunt!”

Charles looked at the magnificent bird on the perch nearby. The animal stared straight ahead into the valley below them, seemingly ignoring them all. “I want him to get me that wolverine,” the king pointed below at a small patch of brown fur moving through the brush. “He won’t move.”

A wolverine was a very dangerous animal, despite its relatively small size. Charles wrung his hands. “Perhaps he would prefer something with blunter claws and fewer teeth, Sire?” 

“Nonsense!” the king roared. “If the eagle refuses to perform, it will be your hide, Master Falconer, for you have trained him ill. I promised the queen a wolverine pelt and that is what she will get.” The elegantly dressed young queen at his side clapped in delight.

Charles gulped. He had not yet suffered a whipping like his father had received, and he felt weak in the knees at the prospect. He went to the eagle and tried the techniques he knew for pushing a stubborn bird to work — offering small morsels of meat, focusing its attention on the target — but the animal stayed stoic and unmoving.

The king quickly lost patience with being embarrassed in front of his guest. “Captain!” he beckoned the leader of his guard. “Ten lashings for the Master Falconer for his failure today. We shall have some bloody entertainment, even if it is not from our first choice.”

Charles trembled at the sight of the large man with the coiled whip in his hand. He fumbled at his collar and tried to hold back tears as he struggled to undo the buttons. The guardsman stepped behind him and grabbed his shirt at the shoulders, yanking it down to expose him to the waist. Charles could barely breathe as he braced his palms on a boulder and leaned forward, hanging his head down and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the air move behind him as the man unfurled the whip and took a sharp intake of breath, preparing himself… 

A loud, inhuman cry echoed through the valley. Charles looked up to see the eagle glaring at them as it screeched again. Once it had the crowd’s attention, it launched itself from its perch and soared into the valley below, straight toward where the wolverine had been. 

“Aha! He is performing after all!” The king clapped his hands and turned to the queen. “Soon, my dear, you shall have your prize.” 

As everyone watched the eagle surveying the land below it, Charles pulled his shirt back into place and buttoned it. He felt faint with fear and the narrowness of his escape, but now he was also concerned about the bird. The beast dove into the underbrush at a steep angle and there was a great flapping of wings. It was too far to see what was happening on the ground, but the bird rose back into the sky and back down a number of times, until it descended one last time and all was still.

Charles held his breath in the silence, terrified the eagle had been defeated. But after a long moment, there was flurry of wings and the creature rose once again into the air, this time dangling a large black shape in its talons. It flew slowly and laboriously back to the crowd and dropped the mangled wolverine at the king’s feet before re-taking its perch. 

Servants collected the fresh kill and began to clean it while the king and queen admired its sharp teeth and claws. Charles cared nothing for it, though, and instead went to the eagle. The bird was restlessly shifting from foot to foot on its perch, its chest expanding and contracting like a bellows. Charles opened his mouth to thank the animal for sparing him his punishment, but the words caught in his throat when he saw the deep gash high up on the bird’s leg. “Oh, no, you poor thing,” he whispered. 

Charles himself would not be whipped for the eagle’s injury, as it occurred while the animal was hunting, but that did not relieve his concern. He took a strip of bandage from his kit and wrapped the wound as a temporary measure, then told the king the eagle would not be able to hunt again that day. Fortunately, the king was well satisfied by the wolverine and agreed that they could return to the castle. 

Back in the aviary, Charles took off the bandage and cleaned the wound thoroughly, then stitched it closed and applied a salve. He had to sit close to the eagle’s giant claws during his ministrations, but he had lost his fear of them since that first day. Each time he looked up, he saw a single green eye looking down at him, watching his every move. The bird didn’t flinch at anything Charles did, but even so, the man kept up a steady stream of calming words. 

“You saved me, you know,” he told the animal. “That whip… I’ve never felt it and I don’t want to.” He shuddered. “I don’t know what changed your mind about going after that wolverine, but I’m glad you did.” 

The eagle made a soft noise and turned his head to regard Charles fully with both eyes. The animal seemed to raise a single brow, and the man wondered what the creature was thinking. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” Charles continued. “I… I hate to think of you in pain.” He realized as he said it that it was true. He cared for this majestic beast more than the other raptors in his charge, even though he had known them far longer. There was something about its gaze, the way it pierced him, that made him feel understood.

The eagle dipped its head down and closed its eyes, and gave Charles’s forearm a gentle nudge with the top of its beak. Without thinking, Charles raised his other hand and ran his fingers lightly along the top of the creature’s head. The feathers were softer than the finest silk and warmth radiated through them. The bird seemed to accept the caress as it gave him another nudge before it straightened up and looked at him again, and Charles felt his heart racing. 

He stood up and turned away, confused by the interaction they’d just had. A normal bird of prey would’ve taken off one of his fingers. He coughed and cleared his throat. “I’ll get you dinner and fresh water,” he said, and proceeded to do just that. After caring for the rest of the aviary’s residents as well, he went to sleep amid the familiar rustle of feathers.

 

***

 

The king was not satisfied by the wolverine. As his courtship of the queen grew more intense, so did his desire to impress her by hunting ever larger and more dangerous game. There were times when the eagle would balk, but all it took was the king calling for his captain’s whip to spur the creature into compliance. Charles was heartsick at the injuries the animal incurred, made worse by the knowledge that the bird was seemingly suffering _for him._ He tended each scrape and gouge of the eagle’s flesh and wept at his own helplessness. 

“You should let me be whipped,” he told the bird one night as he cleaned a deep cut in the animal’s side from a warthog’s tusk. “It won’t hurt as much as this is hurting you.” He laughed bitterly. “I’ll train you to put salve on my back.”

The eagle merely stared at him with its green-gold eyes, and at the next hunt it did not hesitate. 

One day, word spread throughout the kingdom that the king had proposed to the queen, and she had accepted. To celebrate the glorious day of their union, there would be a grand hunt where all courtiers and nobility from across the lands would attend, followed by a feast in the great hall. 

All of the king’s hunting birds were used for this trip, but still the giant eagle reigned supreme among them. The king himself was already quite drunk on wedding wine when he announced to the enormous crowd that he would be sending the eagle against its most challenging foe yet: a mountain lion. 

The king’s men had found the lion and flushed it into this valley earlier that day, and now it had been located below them. There were gasps and applause from the courtiers as the eagle was brought forth on its perch and its hood removed. Charles felt sick to his stomach as he wove his way past the guards to approach the king. 

He spoke timidly with his eyes on the muddy ground. “Your Majesty, you know I defer to your wisdom in all things and your wishes will always be paramount, but I must tell you that I am gravely concerned that the eagle will not succeed at this task. Furthermore, he could very well be killed.” 

“Nonsense!” The king yelled to the crowd. “My eagle is the most powerful beast in all the land. There is nothing it cannot defeat!” The courtiers cheered.

“But Sire—“

“Begone,” the man snapped and waved his hand. The captain of the guard took a rough hold of Charles’s arm and hauled him back into the crowd. The tall man stood next to him with his hand on his whip, making it clear what would happen if he spoke up again. All he could do was watch as the king removed the eagle’s hood and pointed down at the faint tan shape slinking through the forest. 

The majestic bird turned and met Charles’ eyes for a long moment. The man shook his head as if to say _No, don’t do it. Don’t do it for me._ But the eagle only gave a slow, sad nod before turning and launching itself into the air. 

A hush fell over the crowd as the eagle soared high, doing two full circles above the valley before turning to dive down into the trees at its center. There was a brief scuffle and the bird rose again only to dive quickly once more. The fight was longer this time and the sounds of it echoed through the valley —feline yowls and the eagle’s cry — before the bird rose free of the trees and dove once more. This went on again and again until finally the eagle ascended and did not dive back down, but instead flew slowly back to the crowd on the mountainside. Its talons were bloody but empty and its wings flapped erratically. Its landing on the perch next to the king was clumsy and its head hung down between its shoulders. 

The king turned to the crowd and forced a hearty laugh. “Oho, I think we may have finally found a match for the beast! But do not be disappointed — we shall feast tonight and return tomorrow for another attempt!”

The courtiers cheered and murmured in excitement as they turned to leave, and Charles ran over to the eagle. As he neared, the bird raised its head and the young man gasped. There was a jagged gouge in the narrow space between the animal’s beak and eye, and blood was dripping off the beak’s point into the mud below. There were other, smaller cuts visible on the bird’s legs and feet as well. Its beautiful eyes were dulled by exhaustion and pain. 

Charles fought back tears as he hastily bandaged the wounds for the journey home. He insisted on walking next to the men who carried the eagle’s perch back to the castle, and as soon as they were alone in the aviary he let the tears fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he cleaned the wounds. He winced as he handled the worst one on the bird’s face, being as gentle as possible while the eagle stood motionless. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to do this.” He sobbed. “If you try again tomorrow, it might… it might—“ He lost the ability to talk and simply held his head in his hands and cried. 

After a moment he felt the bird’s beak gently nuzzle his hair. Charles looked up to see the animal’s eyes staring at him intently from inches away, and there was a deep calmness in them that made his weeping cease. Instead, he felt a wave of serenity come over him. He knew what he had to do.

“I’m going to let you go,” he whispered. “I’m going to set you free so the king can’t make you do anything anymore.” 

He retrieved the tools he used for repairing the birdcages and brought them back to the perch. His hands were shaking. “I know it will likely mean my death, but I see no other way. If you stay, the king will use me to force you to hunt until you die. I would rather lose my head than witness that.”

The bird was watching him with a solemn expression. Charles didn’t know how much the animal understood, but he kept talking. “You are a unique creature. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You need to be free, no matter the cost.”

He felt like he was in a dream, unable to fully comprehend that he was signing his own death warrant as he used his tools to dismantle the hinge on the wide golden shackle. The eagle’s eyes gazed at him, unblinking, as he bent the piece of metal just enough to remove it from the animal’s ankle. He reached up and gave the bird’s forehead one last, mournful caress before pulling off the band and dropping it to the floor.

The eagle flapped its enormous wings and let out a deafening shriek. The wind from its wingbeats knocked Charles to the floor. As he fell, there was a blinding flash of light and the crack of thunder. He lay stunned for a moment, blinking and rubbing his eyes, trying to see past the stars swarming in front of him. When his vision finally cleared, what he could not believe what he saw.

Where the perch had been was now a small pile of ash. Standing in front of it, fully naked, was the tallest man Charles had ever seen. He had tanned skin and long, graceful limbs, with slim muscles that looked like they had been chiseled from stone. His hair seemed to stand up straight from his head, but as Charles looked closer, he realized it was not hair but thousands of small, copper-gold feathers. His eyebrows were the same. In fact, he had feathers everywhere a man would normally have hair, including a short beard and a patch between his legs where his immense manhood lay.

His eyes were a dark green with a swirl of gold around the pupils, and they sparkled with triumph as he let out a deep, booming laugh. “Freedom!” he shouted. “At last, you have given me my freedom!” 

Charles scrambled to his feet, feeling like a small child in comparison. “You… you weren’t truly an eagle?” he stammered.

“I am Shahbaz, king of all the eagles,” the man rumbled. “I am an eagle when I wish to be, or when I have foolishly allowed myself to be cursed.” He kicked the broken shackle at his feet. “I could not transform until that was removed, nor remove it myself.”

Charles stepped closer to the towering man, fascination overcoming his fear. He reached out a hand to the man’s face. “And your wounds… they’re gone?”

The eagle-man took his hand gently and directed it, allowing Charles to stroke his beard where the gouge had been. The fine feathers felt the same as those that had been on the eagle’s head. “Yes. When I change, they are healed.”

“You are magnificent!” Charles exclaimed, then blushed and hastily added, “Your Majesty.” He withdrew his hand and looked down at his feet, conscious of his dirty clothes and meager status. He remembered all of the nights he’d babbled on and on about his life and dreams, never thinking the eagle would understand him, and his cheeks burned. He felt like a fool.

“It is you who are magnificent,” the man declared. His large hands cupped Charles’s cheeks and tilted his face back up. “You treated me with kindness when you thought I was a simple beast. You showed compassion when no other would.” His long fingertips caressed the shorter man’s ears and twined into his hair. “As you cared for me, I came to love you. And then you accepted death in order to set me free. I owe you a great debt.”

Charles stared up into the deep green eyes, feeling as though they were once again seeing through him to the flesh and bone beneath. A tingling ran through him as he became aware of the heat emanating from the other man’s glorious body. He was entranced. “Where will you go?” he breathed.

“Back to my kingdom, beyond the mountains.” 

One of the man’s thumbs traced along his jawline, and Charles shivered. He placed a trembling hand over the center of the man’s chest.  “Will you take me with you?” he asked.

“Only if you agree to one thing.” The tall man leaned down.

“Anything,” Charles murmured.

The man’s breath tasted of lush forests and the hot spices of exotic lands. “Be my prince.”

Charles closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered. 

Their lips met and there was another flash of light, another crack of thunder. When it passed, there was only the wind of two sets of wings beating in unison. They flew over the castle walls, a giant golden eagle and a smaller — but no less beautiful — blue-eyed raven, soaring together into the world beyond.


End file.
